Unlocking Her Doubts: Unlocking Series, #6

Unlocking Her Doubts

Karen L. Abrahamson

The Story

Once Hollywood’s newest ‘it’ girl, Lila Weber gave it all up when the fame and fortune came at too high a price. Still beautiful, but with a maturity that comes with life experience, she settled in Peachland and opened her heritage house to her partners to make it the home of a successful New Age jewelry store.

Lila knows the risk she faces when she puts on the mysterious silver bracelet that has placed her friends in horrible danger all of this long, hot summer. But if no one wears the bracelet then the creature seeking it will be able to claim it and loose more evil into the world. The bracelet will only come off Lila’s wrist if she finds true love, which isn’t likely since she left behind the one man she might have loved long ago.

Nathan Moon never forgot Lila, the woman who gave up Hollywood and left him behind. He spent years telling himself that Lila simply didn’t care for him, but after years of dating dithering, self-promoting starlets, he realizes she is the one for him. He arrives in Peachland and the attraction between them is immediate, but Lila dare not give in. To keep Nathan safe she pushes him away, especially as he refuses to believe the wild story she tells him.

When Lila finally decides to face her feelings it leads to danger and tragedy as summer draws to an end. Only through the strength of their love and the power of the silver bracelet can they and their friends end a supernatural danger for all time.

Fans of steamy sex scenes, the occult, suspense and the paranormal will enjoy this climactic final installment of second chance love overcoming the evil infiltrating a summer beach town.

Prologue

After the short flight from Vancouver, the Schwarzenacht corporate jet settled onto the tarmac of Kelowna International Airport—not that the thing in Johan Fehr’s head would in any way consider this backwater single-runway airport international. It was international in the same way that a drug runner’s dirt runway was international—a suitable surface for takeoff and landing for specific cargo that needed to be shipped. In the drug lord’s world, it was drugs. For Kelowna he hadn’t quite been able to parse what the shipment was—unless it was sun-wizened people trying to escape this hole-in-the-wall town. For, compared to Berlin and the cities of Europe, that was certainly all the city of Kelowna could be called. Even Vancouver, the third largest city in Canada, was just a wet-behind-the-ears upstart in the global city department.

The harsh noonday sun lit the sunburned hills of parched grass and drooping poplar and long-needled pine. Dust hung in the air in the shimmer of heat off the tarmac and shivered the air between him and the distant houses set amid the trees. Dry. Inhospitable and yet everywhere there were vivid green lawns, gardens, and orchards—the product of irrigation. In some ways it reminded him of ancient times. The Tigris and Euphrates had caused just such a microclimate of fresh green along those storied riverbanks. In the springtime of his youth he had dwelt there, taking his toll of the humans foolhardy enough to venture out between the daytime and the night. That was when he had stirred. That was when he had hunted. That had been when he had fed—until civilization came upon him and he found other, less strenuous ways to hunt, first in ancient walled villages and then in the dark alleys of modern metropolises.

The Learjet swayed to a stop and the engine cut off. The steward unstrapped from his seat near the front—the cabin staff knew to leave their betters alone unless called. The mahogany paneling glowed in the light through the window. The scent of recycled air still held the memory of the steak the body, Johan Fehr, had eaten as his in-flight meal and the red wine he’d drunk with it. Unfortunately, regardless of the reasonable food and the light doze he had managed on the flight, the body was still tired. A full sleep had eluded him for the past few days because the heart of this body had pounded, the blood rushed through the veins, all out of the excitement that came with the decision that Johan Fehr himself would take action. He had wasted too much time waiting for others to complete the job that must be done. This time it would be completed.

He would recover the bracelet and his power would return, for surely if he salvaged the power remaining in the two unopened doors, it would give him the strength to reclaim that which had been lost at the opening of the five other doors. He would feed in the old ways once more. The power of two doors was not inconsiderable. This close to the woman who wore it, he could feel her heart beating in sympathetic rhythm to his own.

He closed his eyes, taking the moment to revel in the intimacy. It was the sensation he had always relished before he killed.

The steward checked on the pilots and then cracked the door to the tarmac. Dry air rushed in carrying with it the scent of sage and airplane fuel. The Johan body inhaled.

Ready to deplane when you are, sir. The pilot reports that the limousine is waiting.

The steward’s footsteps retreated to his cubby at the front, leaving his master to do what he wanted.

With a sigh he opened his eyes and scanned the file he’d been reading, his finger trailing down the photographs of the six women. After a thousand years of no news of the bracelet, so much had happened in the barely three months since the bracelet had been found. All his attempts to retrieve his treasure had been blocked at every turn. His bodies stopped, some actually killed—him forced to abandon them and return, depleted, to Johan Fehr, until the only way he could approach the women was to fly like some common human, trapped in this body.

All caused by these women. His jaw clenched.

Each was lovely in her own way. Lovely enough he would enjoy their death, but truly it seemed he had saved the best for last–for this would be the last. In this powerful body he would surely prevail. He ran his fingertips over the photo again, imagining the silver singing on her wrist, imagining the sweetness of the fear he could evoke in her through his little jokes. Her fear would feed him and make him strong again. Auburn haired and with hazel-flecked eyes, she was the only one left amidst the bevy of beauties who had not already worn the bracelet. There was one way to be sure, for just the sound of her voice would tell him.

He picked up his cell phone from the table beside him and dialed the number his investigator had listed in the file. Not that he needed the file. He’d stolen the number already from the mind of a policeman.

The telephone purred at the other end. The best for last, and he closed his eyes at the pleasure the thoughts of her death evoked. The body’s fingers worked, the large knuckles cracking. It had been a long time since the Johan body had taken direct action.

It had been even longer since he was directly involved in killing.

Chapter 1

Six-thirty in the morning and Lila Weber sipped a cup of maple-flavored milk tea as she stood on the wide front porch of the large red-and-white heritage house that had belonged to her grandparents. This late in September, along the porch edge bright copper pots held fading displays of red and white petunia and purple heliotrope that scented the air like baby powder. Across the street, beyond the white gate and hedge of the house’s yard, lay the uneasy waters of Okanagan Lake, still dark from the night. It was the last of the dog days of summer, and the days were shorter, the dawn later, the nights—thankfully—cooler. But it also meant fall was here and the long gray days of winter would follow all too soon.

The rush and hum of the highway traffic at the base of the mountain behind the strip of flat land that held the sleepy town of Peachland had increased with the onset of September’s workdays as people returned to their jobs from holidays. The sound was no longer just white noise. A breeze from the south picked up moisture, the scent of sage and pine, and an unusual coolness as it ran up the long narrow lake. She shivered.

She still wore her clothes from her morning yoga—navy leggings and a lavender sports bra—both still damp from her workout. Her thick auburn curls were a damp, tangled ponytail on the top of her head, so the breeze cooled her neck.

Cold, actually. Soon the wind would come from the north all the time and it would be too cold to stand outside to cool off and drink her tea. The thought saddened her. Something about this time of year always brought thoughts of endings. Maybe it was the fact that the summer people, who usually staked out their piece of beach even this early in the day, had mostly departed with Labor Day. The number of morning joggers had decreased to a trickle on the promenade along the water. Maybe it was because all the important things of her life had mostly happened at this time of year—the death of her parents and grandparents, other things that had been less painful but no less important.

Her fingers strayed to the silver links of the bracelet around her wrist.

Or maybe it was the bracelet. God knew the troublesome thing caused strange reactions within its wearer. The darn thing had been nothing but trouble ever since she brought it into the house. She’d like nothing more than to get it off. After causing innumerable problems for her friends, who had, one-by-one, put the bracelet on, the time had come for her to face the music and wear the infernal thing. She had no time for this kind of thing—not with a business to run.

She sipped her tea, savoring the smooth tannins and the slight sweetness of sugar. Soothing. That was what she’d been going for. Something to soothe the bad dreams that had been disturbing her the past three weeks. So far it wasn’t working.

And this month was supposed to be one of beginnings—the opening of the new clothing store that she and Victoria Angelucci had partnered on. It would bring Milanese custom fashion to the Okanagan, the first of its kind, and would build on the jewelry store, This and That, that had already made Peachland a destination.

The first rays of sun over the bald gray mountains across the lake shattered golden in the lake’s small waves and caught on the silver of the bracelet.

No, she was not going to dwell on endings, though wearing the bracelet meant she wore a target on her back. It was her turn, that was the only reason she’d put the darn thing on. That, and someone had to keep it from the reach of the creature that was seeking it. The trouble was, she’d put the bracelet on three weeks ago after it fell off of Victoria Angelucci’s wrist, and too many nights of dark dreams had followed.

A sound from the house brought her around and a sleepy blonde figure in violet satin pajamas and robe padded into the This and That jewelry shop that occupied the front of the house. The front door opened with a little ding-a-ling from the silver bell above the door, releasing the scent of incense as Victoria Angelucci stepped out onto the porch.

She was a beautiful woman of lush hair and lusher curves à la movie stars of the Brigitte Bardot era, but sleep still muddied her features. This was her last morning as a guest of Lila’s. After a month and a half staying in Lila’s guest bedroom, she had leased a condo just down the street and above the clothing shop that she and Lila were opening. It meant that Lila would get her house, her sanctuary, back to herself. After the events of the summer, she couldn’t say she wasn’t looking forward to it.

Victoria slumped onto the turquoise-and-mandarin-cushioned wicker loveseat that was part of a grouping of wicker furniture on the covered porch. She put her slippered feet on the cushioned ottoman, closed her eyes, and held out a phone.

This—this thing would not stop ringing. It is for you, she said in her Milanese accent.

Frowning, Lila accepted the phone. A call this early in the morning did not bode well. In fact, the phone call on top of the queasy feeling she’d had in the pit of her stomach since she finally got up this morning had her hesitating to answer.

Man or woman? she asked, but Victoria had laid her head back to catch the first warm rays of sun and simply waved the question away.

Bracing herself, Lila brought the phone to her ear. Hello?

There was silence a moment, but the sound of breathing came over the phone.

Hello? This is Lila Weber.

The line went dead.

She looked at the phone before clicking it off, a tingle of dread pooling in her stomach as she sank onto the fan-backed, peacock chair that others called her throne. The phone felt unfamiliar and unwelcome in her hand. She set it on the ottoman and scrubbed her hand on her thigh.

Who was it? Victoria turned one bleary eye toward her. They had both been up late the night before with discussions about the store’s grand opening and dealing with issues about Victoria’s visa.

Lila shook her head, the chill she’d been feeling coalescing into cold even though the sun was finally warming the air. I don’t know. Whoever it was, they hung up as soon as I said who I was. It’s odd. I had a similar call yesterday.

He. It was a man that asked for you.

If anything, the day went colder. Lila rubbed her arms and wished for a sweater.

I don’t suppose that bodes well either, does it?

Victoria sat up and pulled her dainty muled feet onto the floor again. Do you think this has something to do with that thing again?

She nodded at the bracelet, shuddering delicately.

Do you? But why would the creature call me? It’s done things much more insidiously up until now—it doesn’t phone to announce itself.

Would it not call if it knew it could upset you?

Lila didn’t know how to answer. The creature, who was somehow connected to a German named Johan Fehr, had dogged them all summer since the bracelet came into their possession. The bracelet, however, seemed to have a mind of its own, refusing to come off the wearer’s wrist until the woman had found her soul mate—a man associated with one of the ornate doors that formed the links of the bracelet. So far five of her friends had found love and happiness and she was happy for them, but love—well, love wasn’t what she was looking for anymore. She’d long ago given up on love for herself. If anything, she was married to her store.

She held out the bracelet to catch the sun’s rays and the link shaped like an arched door with ornately-filigreed, scrolled-iron hinges momentarily blinding her.

With this store and the grand opening of the new one and trying to research the story behind the bracelet, she was busy enough.

Love was definitely the last thing she had time for.

§

For the umpteenth time, Nathan Moon hung up the phone and wondered what in God’s green earth he was doing. He sat in his room in the Kelowna Marquis hotel, supposedly enjoying the blue and white view of the lake and the marina that sat at the base of Kelowna’s most prestigious hotel. Instead, here he was in the glass-walled room, agonizing over whether to actually talk on a phone call.

With a groan he tossed his phone on the white leather couch and stood to pace the length of the white plush carpet to the base of the baby grand piano one more time. Money might get him the best room in the house, but apparently it didn’t get him the balls to talk to a woman he hadn’t seen in about fifteen years. Stupid. Idiot. Disgusting. Sissy.

What are you, Moon? A momma’s boy? A weak-willed, lily-livered coward? he said choosing dialogue straight out of one of the 1940s movies that he’d cut his teeth watching in Hollywood.

He strode across the room to the bar and poured himself a glass of orange juice from the carafe that room service had delivered this morning. He considered adding a shot of vodka but wasn’t that just the kind of thing his father had done that had led to his parents’ divorce? Damn it. A drink would help to work up the courage, but the sun was barely up over the mountains let alone over the yardarm. Surely to goodness Lila Weber wasn’t that daunting and the two of them had been rather good friends, but this time—this time he’d like things to end differently.

And if you want that to happen, then maybe you have to start somewhere? Like a screenwriter starting a script, the hardest thing was the empty page. In this case it was all the empty years between them.

Orange juice in hand, he crossed back to his phone and slumped on the couch. The view truly was stunning—blue lake and green mountains, a single stately sailboat running up the lake before the morning wind. In front of the hotel, the huge, shaggy cottonwood shaded a waterside walkway. The kind of view people would pay top dollar for, even more so for top billing in a penthouse suite like this. He was a man with enough confidence in himself he’d told the big studios to piss off and had gone independent. Surely any woman would be impressed by this address.

Except maybe Lila Weber. That was one of the things that had always impressed him about her—the trappings of Hollywood power really hadn’t seemed to mean anything.

He stabbed redial on his phone.

The line hummed in his ear and then began to ring at the other end. What the hell he was going to say after all this time he wasn’t sure, but he’d think of something. He and Lila had always been good at conversation while they stood around on the set between takes. He remembered the girl-woman dressed as a goddess, with Grecian toga flowing around her slim figure, the cording of the toga tied up high under her breasts, her auburn curls tumbling about her shoulders with a fine netting of jewels across her forehead and makeup that glittered on her high cheekbones. Her eyes had been huge and liquid. Her lips the color of wine so that every time he’d been with her he’d wanted to kiss her.

He hadn’t, of course. He’d been living with Celia back then and he was loyal to her even if he’d already had the feeling that she wasn’t the one. Besides, Lila Weber had only been seventeen, seven years his junior and jailbait at the time.

The phone clicked as someone picked up and he held his breath.

This and That, Kylee speaking. A bright, but harried female voice at the end of the phone.

Not what he was expecting. He almost hung up again.

I’m sorry. I was looking for someone. A woman named Lila Weber. I’m an old friend from her Hollywood days and a mutual friend gave me this number. Mutual in a pig’s eye. He’d spent weeks digging around for her number, had been close as damn to hiring a private investigator to find her.

Who’s calling, please?

So the voice on the phone did know something.

"My name’s Nathan Moon. I worked with Lila on a movie a long time back. Maybe you saw it—The Battle for Olympus?" That usually impressed the locals.

He settled back on the couch. This was going to work. Lila’d come on the phone and he’d arrange a date to take her to dinner. Sort of sweep her off her feet.

The pause on the phone lengthened, but then the chipper voice returned. I’m sorry, Mr. Moon, I know Lila Weber and I’m also aware that she really would like to forget her short period of fame and be left in peace. Thank you for your call. Goodbye.

The connection went dead, leaving him eyeing the phone.

What the hell was that? he said, dropping the offending handset in disgust.

Heck, where the hell was that? He knew Peachland was a backwater town in a backwater eddy of British Columbia, Canada, but the way the woman had answered the phone, it sounded like she was in a store of some kind. Was Lila reduced to a store clerk now?

The thought was almost impossible to believe, but maybe he could make like the hero in Pretty Woman and ride in and sweep her off her feet—rescue her, as the case may be. Poor kid. Things obviously hadn’t gone well for her. Fifteen years—a lot could change. She could be married with six kids by now. Hell, the voice on the phone could be her daughter! But he just couldn’t picture Lila Weber like that. No, Lila Weber had been too much like the goddess she played in the movie—too far above most mortal men. He was probably a fool thinking he could woo her even now, but hey, didn’t most of his movies feature determined men who overcame the odds?

He pulled up the search engine on his phone and stabbed in This and That and Peachland. The system sought and then brought up the option for This and That: Jewelry and Unsung Treasures. That had a Lila Weber ring. He brought up the website.

A background image of a lake—probably this one—overlaid with a misty image of the inside of a store with dark wainscoting and gleaming glass cases. Then writing faded into existence as the misty image faded further.

This and That provides custom-made jewelry of precious and semiprecious stones from around the world. The proud home of Regulus Designs, come and see the latest stunning pieces destined to grace the runways of Europe.

This and That Jewelry and Unsung Treasures: Open Monday to Friday 9:30 a.m. to 5 p.m. Open Saturday 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Phone to arrange a private viewing outside these hours or contact the store to arrange a jewelry party at your home.

Links at the top connected to a gallery, a page on arranging a private party, and a page on Regulus Designs, as well as an About page. He clicked on About and a clearer image of the store appeared and began rotating to give a full view of the interior—much like real estate used for a three-sixty degree tour. On top of the image more writing appeared.

Opened in 2010 at its current location at 1520 Beach Avenue, Peachland, This and That is the lovechild of three friends who love beautiful things and who are determined to share that beauty with the world.

Hardly a Hollywood headshot and credit sheet. He tossed the phone on the couch again, then scooped it up and headed for the door. He was not going to sit here like some jilted ex-lover. Even if things didn’t work out with Lila the way his far-too-vivid imagination had envisioned, he still would like to see her again—even just as a friend.

Down the elevator and through the lobby to the heat that was a lot like Los Angeles on the very best days—no pollution and very little humidity, but with a breeze off the lake that kept things downright pleasant. In the parking lot he climbed in the dark gray rental Mercedes. Hot. He keyed on the car and opened the sunroof to let out the heat and catch the breeze. Then he tapped the voice recognition GPS and turned on the a/c.

"This and That: Jewelry and Unsung Treasures. Beach Avenue, Peachland."

The GPS computed and provided a map of the turns he needed. If only it would be as easy to secure a route to Lila.

Chapter 2

Returning to the store from a run to the printer’s in West Kelowna, Lila parked her Ford Escape in the carport at the rear of the house and hauled the box of cards and pamphlets from the back. The final announcement cards for the grand opening of the clothing store had finally arrived—late, of course. In addition, Chloe and Kylee had been planning informational brochures about the proper care of individual jewels or crystals that they could provide to each customer. Chloe was a crystal healer and believed that a jewel’s owner should understand how to maintain the positive vibrations of their stones. So far their test run of brochures had been eaten up by store patrons, so they’d finally committed to the not inexpensive full printing.

She lugged the box around the car and across the flagstone back patio that was unusually silent since Reggie—Reggie Lewis of Regulus Designs—had taken a day off from her design studio to be with her daughter at a horse show. Her sweetie, Cesare, was off in Milan, supposedly dealing the final death blow to the lawsuit that had haunted Reggie. The turquoise and yellow wicker patio furniture beckoned for her to just sit and take in the sun, but she had no time. In fact, it felt like years since she had. She might live in one of British Columbia’s summer playgrounds, but she rarely played herself. As a businesswoman, who had time?

Balancing the box on her hip, she opened the back door to the kitchen and stepped inside into coolness. The kitchen was her favorite room of her house. It was her grandmother’s old summer kitchen, with a bank of windows that spanned the entire back of the room, including the door. Broad marble counters spread under most of the windows except at one end of the room where there was a comfortable, old-fashioned nook with more turquoise and yellow and tangerine cushions. The room’s walls were white, but the cupboards were sunny yellow. Stainless steel appliances were an update along with the copper fan hood above the gas range that sat in its own alcove.

Lila set the box on the table and eased her back, then went to the fridge. She was just pouring herself a lemonade when Kylee appeared from the darkened hallway, Chloe on her heels. Both women looked concerned. Kylee was the latest addition to This and That. The petite blonde had been Lila’s high school best friend and had turned to Lila when her latest love had gone wrong. She’d since partnered with Chloe’s vintner brother, Brett. As usual, today she wore a brightly colored floral dress, her bright hair in a cute cut that just skimmed her chin.

Chloe was everything that Kylee was not, average height with hip-length brown hair that she tamed in a braid, her uniform was a caftan tunic with matching leggings. Today they were a pale lavender that brought out the hints of violet in her eyes. Chloe was a long-time friend with a passionate belief in psychic talents.

Lila looked from one to the other and sipped her drink. What?

She looked down at herself. Was something wrong with her outfit? She wore a sleeveless navy shift that skimmed her body and navy-and-white spectator flats. I haven’t peed myself. And I’m not wearing my breakfast. What gives? Another sip of the thirst quenching lemonade as Kylee and Chloe looked at each other.

Kylee crossed the room to catch her hand.

That someone had died was the first thing that crossed Lila’s mind.

She set down her glass and felt suddenly afraid. What’s happened? Who’s hurt?

Kylee shook her head. It’s nothing like that. But Victoria mentioned those two weird calls you’ve had. She swallowed. Another call came while you were out. I don’t know if it means anything but—well, I gave him the kiss-off.

Tell her what he said, Chloe urged.

He said he was looking for Lila Weber, and all I could think of was the bracelet you’re wearing. She nodded at the silver links gracing Lila’s wrist. "He said he worked with you on a movie a long time back and he mentioned Battle for Olympus. Knowing the problems you’ve had with fans in the past, I told him that was part of a life that you’d put behind you and that you’d prefer to be left in peace."

Lila nodded.